Dream fast and don't describe a limit,
as we spin around this world of purity and wicked.

Is poetry the healing avenue you so desperately must cross, to ignite the rocket fuel inside us...and for once...see past the gloss?

Move past the greed of materialistic comfort,
outrun the inexhaustive shadows that can only bring suffers.

Escape your facade of reality which is your own construction,
and turn your pain into your own harmoniously beautiful art production.

Once you see that you are not alone, as the pain is happening globally,
you will finally ingest and release the power of poetry.

I briskly walk heel-to-toe in order to keep my surprise,
equipped and prepared with deadly ammunition from the wise.

I spot many targets running clearly in and out of plain sight,
as I methodically recite the magical words for entering the limelight.

Other hunters encircle and stalk the same prey,
each of their minds accelerating towards the main entree.

Encompassed and imprisoned by materialistic greed,
and it all started from a small seed, the creation of currency.

The few who control these jobs drink any ambrosia of their picking,
simultaneously tossing constituents bones about after tooth picking.

Too much is never enough, yet we all throw out the crust.

The world's insatiable thirst is much more than these agenda-based bluffs, it is all about making a job market for many...is that too tough?

The prancing sheep evade my mind and eat upon greener pastures.

I squirm and wince at every thought that repetitively repeats, "just go to sleep", while tracing back the day's steps and weighing the factors.

Why must my mind be so out of sync with the tune of my body?

The wise would advise physical exhaustion is not sufficient ammo to defend against morphing into a groggy zombie.

Insomnia? No...I can have a good night, windows open and naturally closed eyes.

Anxiety? No...my life is too right, for me to not realize this sleep is just something I idiotically idolize.

Change? Yes...I can grow and stow away any thoughts which summon the riot, organize the files and endless waiting miles.

Minutes to hours, hours to frustration,
all until a simple revelation, I've had singular control of the entire situation.

Through meditation, finally free of this voluntary probation.

For no longer do I fear my head touching those precious feathers, and no longer wince at the warm and fleece-ridden wrapping like tethers.

I can now dim the blinding internal light, and tear from the controlling reigns that started this nightly pillow fight.